best—going from one Quarterly Girl to another. Everyone here probably knew she was one…except she was only going to last a month.
Did they pity her?
Despite her apprehensions, everyone Mark introduced her to was gracious. Most knew who she was—Gavin’s trusted assistant. That probably helped, since most people knew how much her boss liked her, and not many people wanted to offend Gavin.
Toward the end of the event, Hilary slipped away to the ladies’ room. Maybe she shouldn’t have drunk so much, but it was difficult to resist the best champagne and cocktails money could buy, and waiters had ensured she was never empty-handed.
As she was finishing up in a stall, she heard a few women walk in. One of them sniffed loudly, while two others moved around, their shoes clacking against the tiled floor.
“Did you see that redheaded cow he brought here?” Woman Number One said, sniffing again.
“I know. What an ass. And I don’t mean hers. I can’t believe he downgraded. What does he see in her?”
“He must like them shameless. Did you see how she was strutting around? Where did she even find a Dior that huge? I’m surprised her heels don’t break under all that weight.”
“He could take her down to Texas. Every other step and she’d strike oil.”
There was tittering laughter. Hilary put her hands on her suddenly hot cheeks.
“Crap. I can’t find my lipstick,” a third woman said.
Some rustling and clattering, and Woman Number Two said, “Try mine. It’s almost the same shade.”
“Thanks.” A short pause. “It galls me how people can’t see what she really is. For god’s sake, she’s a secretary.”
“Yup. Bet she got her job because she’s good at…”
Hilary strained to hear what the other woman was saying, but obviously she wasn’t going to say it out loud. Or maybe Hilary just couldn’t hear over the roar of her blood in her ears.
A moment later all the women burst out laughing. “Oh my god! Who would want that from somebody who looks like her?”
“Some men like them chubby. Besides, she has that trashy look going on.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if her family’s been on one of those daytime talk shows.” Woman Number Two put on a twangy accent. “‘How could you fuck mah sister while you were wit
me?
Ah even had your
baybee!’
”
The ensuing giggles sounded garbled and distant as spots appeared in Hilary’s vision. How could they know? Was it that obvious? It was shameful to admit, but the fact was both her mother and aunt would’ve been more than happy to be on one of those programs. She could just imagine them, twin sisters fighting over who deserved Tim more…except he’d been generally unavailable for that kind of confrontation. There had been too many women to screw to bother with TV.
“…let her enjoy her Cinderella moment,” Woman Number Three was saying. “Soon the clock’s going to strike midnight. You know Mark. She’ll be lucky to last one month, much less three.”
“No shit. Taylor, you’ll get him back.”
“Oh, I plan to,” Woman Number One said.
The voices dwindled as the three women exited.
Her knees weak, Hilary opened the door of the stall and peered out. Her reflection stared back from the big mirror, and suddenly her entire ensemble—the dress, the earrings, her make-up, everything—looked ludicrous, like expensive window dressing on a dime-store mannequin.
The women were wrong. She wasn’t even Cinderella. In the fairy tale, everyone thought she was a princess…because deep down, Cinderella was a princess kind of girl. Hilary wasn’t like that. It didn’t matter what she wore or whose arm she was gracing. She could never hide who she was. What she was.
She was a messed up girl from a messed up family. She didn’t belong here.
* * *
Mark could tell something was wrong the instant Hilary returned from the bathroom. She was so pale, not even the makeup could hide it. “Hey, you all right?” He took her hand, and
Did they pity her?
Despite her apprehensions, everyone Mark introduced her to was gracious. Most knew who she was—Gavin’s trusted assistant. That probably helped, since most people knew how much her boss liked her, and not many people wanted to offend Gavin.
Toward the end of the event, Hilary slipped away to the ladies’ room. Maybe she shouldn’t have drunk so much, but it was difficult to resist the best champagne and cocktails money could buy, and waiters had ensured she was never empty-handed.
As she was finishing up in a stall, she heard a few women walk in. One of them sniffed loudly, while two others moved around, their shoes clacking against the tiled floor.
“Did you see that redheaded cow he brought here?” Woman Number One said, sniffing again.
“I know. What an ass. And I don’t mean hers. I can’t believe he downgraded. What does he see in her?”
“He must like them shameless. Did you see how she was strutting around? Where did she even find a Dior that huge? I’m surprised her heels don’t break under all that weight.”
“He could take her down to Texas. Every other step and she’d strike oil.”
There was tittering laughter. Hilary put her hands on her suddenly hot cheeks.
“Crap. I can’t find my lipstick,” a third woman said.
Some rustling and clattering, and Woman Number Two said, “Try mine. It’s almost the same shade.”
“Thanks.” A short pause. “It galls me how people can’t see what she really is. For god’s sake, she’s a secretary.”
“Yup. Bet she got her job because she’s good at…”
Hilary strained to hear what the other woman was saying, but obviously she wasn’t going to say it out loud. Or maybe Hilary just couldn’t hear over the roar of her blood in her ears.
A moment later all the women burst out laughing. “Oh my god! Who would want that from somebody who looks like her?”
“Some men like them chubby. Besides, she has that trashy look going on.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if her family’s been on one of those daytime talk shows.” Woman Number Two put on a twangy accent. “‘How could you fuck mah sister while you were wit
me?
Ah even had your
baybee!’
”
The ensuing giggles sounded garbled and distant as spots appeared in Hilary’s vision. How could they know? Was it that obvious? It was shameful to admit, but the fact was both her mother and aunt would’ve been more than happy to be on one of those programs. She could just imagine them, twin sisters fighting over who deserved Tim more…except he’d been generally unavailable for that kind of confrontation. There had been too many women to screw to bother with TV.
“…let her enjoy her Cinderella moment,” Woman Number Three was saying. “Soon the clock’s going to strike midnight. You know Mark. She’ll be lucky to last one month, much less three.”
“No shit. Taylor, you’ll get him back.”
“Oh, I plan to,” Woman Number One said.
The voices dwindled as the three women exited.
Her knees weak, Hilary opened the door of the stall and peered out. Her reflection stared back from the big mirror, and suddenly her entire ensemble—the dress, the earrings, her make-up, everything—looked ludicrous, like expensive window dressing on a dime-store mannequin.
The women were wrong. She wasn’t even Cinderella. In the fairy tale, everyone thought she was a princess…because deep down, Cinderella was a princess kind of girl. Hilary wasn’t like that. It didn’t matter what she wore or whose arm she was gracing. She could never hide who she was. What she was.
She was a messed up girl from a messed up family. She didn’t belong here.
* * *
Mark could tell something was wrong the instant Hilary returned from the bathroom. She was so pale, not even the makeup could hide it. “Hey, you all right?” He took her hand, and
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